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When my daughters were young I used to have the privilege of tucking them safely into their beds each night. Bedtime stories and prayers, — special moments for this mom’s heart. It was during this time that they would share with me what was troubling them. Tired from the day’s demands, I listened intently to the cries of their hearts, and then encouraged them to take their cares and lay them on the “nighttime shelf.”

The nighttime shelf was a safe place. Even a bit magical. While it’s only visible with the eyes of your imagination, — I assure you it’s very real. Sturdy and steady, and always up for the job, of holding what troubled one’s tender heart at night. In fact, it seemed to take special delight in helping my girl’s unload their burdens. Allowing them to lay aside what troubled them — and rest….

The beauty of the nighttime shelf is that most always, when morning came, the worries from the night before were no longer there. On the occasion that the troubles were still sitting upon the shelf, they had magically become smaller and less troubling.

The nighttime shelf has weathered the storms of life and come out the other side with little to no scars. It remains steady, strong, and able to shelve the weightiest of concerns. It’s never been intimidated or alarmed in any fashion. In fact, I’m convinced it’s made of an indestructible substance.

While my children are now grown, and I no longer tuck them into their beds at night, — I do however continue to cover them with my prayers. As for the nighttime shelf, it remains a constant and is ever ready to shelve any care we give it.

I’m reminded of a story Corrie Ten Boom shares in her book The Hiding Place –

“He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his trasveling case off the floor and set it on the floor. Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?” he said. I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning.It’s too heavy,” I said. Yes,” he said, “and it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger, you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you.”

I take comfort in knowing my heavenly Father understands the weight my shoulders can bear in the torrents of life. He is my nighttime shelf.